Restoring the Blades

He continued. "I came to Skyrim after they died of fever. I wanted to learn more about them and where they came from, to have something of a legacy to carry on."

"Did you find it?"

"No," he admitted. He turned his head to Delphine and met her eyes. "I found something better. Or rather, it found me."

She inhaled sharply, then it was her turn to view the mountain scenery. "So, Illia then? I gathered there was more than friendship between you."

The Nord let out a short and sheepish chuckle. "Well, she's certainly part of it, but what I was trying to say was that my own legacy was waiting for me here. As Dragonborn, with the Blades. With you, Delphine."

A slow pressure built on her chest. She turned her shoulder away and glared at the Dragonborn from the corner of her eye. "If you think tender words are all it will take to change my mind, you've never understood me."

She watched him grimace and felt a twinge of guilt. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked impatiently.

"I have a point," he said. "It goes back to what I said earlier, about the future of the Blades. I'm not going to be around forever. Akatosh forbid something happens to me, but if it does then you'll still be here to lead. But who leads after we both are gone? The Blades will scatter like the dragons did after Alduin's defeat. We need to make sure what you've built holds strong foundations. We both need to ensure our legacies."

Delphine's breath slightly increased in pace. She dropped her arms and slowly faced the Nord. Already having an inkling of where this could be heading, her voice had the faintest of falterings as she asked, "What exactly are you proposing?"

The Nord collected himself before answering. His expression was stern but warm. "I want you to have a child with me, Delphine. To inherit our leadership of the Blades for the future generations."

A whirlwind of responses stormed in her head. Are you on skooma? Do you have mammoth dung for brains? Should I kill you? Myself? Both of us?

A single quiet, stray thought triggered an unexpected reaction below her abdomen: Your bed or mine?

Delphine blinked and shook the intrusive fantasy away. She found it hard to keep eye contact with the Dragonborn, particularly due to the intensity of his expression. He was sincere, and worse, he expected a reply.

"Why?" Is all she could muster up to ask. "Why are you saying this to me? Get away-"

"Please Delphine, listen to me," the Nord interjected. "I've debated this to myself for days now. A child by the two of us will keep the Blades unified! They'd have double the legitimacy to lead, they'd inherit the title of Grandmaster and be the son or daughter of the Dragonborn. There's already a power struggle between you and me. We can't risk that continuing."

"And your solution is to remove me from the equation, turn me from Grandmaster to broodmare!"

"No! Nothing like that!"

She stepped forward. He stood a head taller than her, a typical height difference between Nords and Bretons, but that did not affect her ferocity. "I'm a Blade, not your bed warmer, Dragonborn! Go ask the Orc or Illia to spawn your 'heir'!"

"Delphine, it needs to be you. I want it to be you!"

She paused. The flaming runaway wagon of fury that was building inside her skid to a halt. "You...want me?"

A twisting in her gut transformed into heavy pressure on her chest. She felt her heart increase pace.

"Ah," the Dragonborn stammered. He clenched his fist and stood his ground. "Yes."

The weight increased. He was little over half her age, she could not reason why he would desire her. Her vision started to focus away from the Nord's face and towards the broadness of his shoulders, his uncovered forearms, the muscles on his exposed neck. That intrusive voice returned: What are you waiting for? Indulge.

She showed her back to the Dragonborn, mostly to keep her cravings in check. "Why not Illia or Borgakh? I could appoint either of them Grandmaster tomorrow if I wanted! You can get what you want from one of them."

"They aren't you."

She resisted the urge to face him. Nine Divines, to pounce on him and relieve the prurience that had compounded over months. The Breton made one more attempt to dissuade herself.

"How do I know this isn't just a way for you to keep me here and not out with the rest of you? That this is proof you see me as a liability? I can still slaughter a host of Thalmor or Forsworn, or worse! I refuse to be dismissed to child rearing."

"You wouldn't be alone. We'll be able to pass down everything you've taught me, and more. They'll have a home here."

The scowl she wore faded, but she did not dare let the Dragonborn see. She replied, "Sky Haven Temple is a sacred fortress, a house of warriors. It's not a place to raise children."

"Children? Oh," he said, awestruck and curving the corners of his mouth. "I was only talking about one child, but...yes, now that I think about it, I would be happy to have at least a few with you."

She turned around in disbelief. The two of them held eye contact in silence as Delphine searched for any hint of deception. She found the genuine and the hopeful optimism only a young man like the Dragonborn could produce.

"If...that's what you would want," the Nord said, shifting his feet in anticipation.

The intrusive inner thoughts were getting louder. Take advantage of the offer. Fulfill your needs. Think of what you've denied yourself all these years.

She continued staring, unaware that her mouth opened slightly.

It's a smart match. He has a point. If he wants to, why not? You'll enjoy it. You need it.

"Delphine," the Nord spoke.

You won't have another chance. You don't have much time.

"Delphine?"

She snapped back to attention when she felt her fingers pressing against her thigh. She broke eye contact, indecisive of how or what to answer.

"Think of your legacy. What do you want to leave behind?" The Nord asked.

She lifted her hand away from her waist. To her surprise, she found that it went to grasp the Dragonborn's. A small, bashful smile flashed briefly on her lips and she felt the blood rush through her cheeks. I guess I've got my answer.

She looked back to the Dragonborn. "I accept. For the future of the Blades."

He smiled and nodded. Neither of them said anything for a few moments, both clearly unsure of what to do next.

Delphine brushed a loose bang away from her face. She cleared her throat. "I don't know-"

The Dragonborn interrupted with a crash of his lips onto hers, squeezing the hand she held with his and pulling her closer by the waist with his other.

Following a surprised "mmph" escaping her throat, Delphine closed her eyes and gave into the kiss. The Nord's face was warm, and the aroma of fresh water came off his beard. She wanted more; she parted her lips and leaned into the Dragonborn's chest, placing her free hand on his shoulder. Her tongue risked a light touch against his mouth. She eased her teeth down onto his lower lip and savored his taste.

The hand on her waist snaked across her back and gripped the opposite side, trapping her in the Nord's powerful embrace. His larger hand squeezed against her smaller one. The Dragonborn had always been attracted to Delphine's spitfire personality; she could have passed for a Nord if not for her petiteness. When they had decided to travel to Kynesgrove together and she disrobed from her innkeeper's clothes and into some leather armor, that attraction grew physical. She was not completely uncovered, but the Nord got a glimpse of her athletic muscle tone -- particularly at the waist and legs. And she could fight! Maybe not with the strength of Borgakh or with the power of Illia's magic, but with her mind. Years of training and experience honed Delphine into a battlefield tactician. She knew when to parry and when to strike, often before her opponent. The taboo of their age difference fueled what he considered a mere sexual curiosity, but the journey back to Sky Haven Temple gave him enough to reflect that he did desire her. The thought of her carrying his child excited his loins even further.

They broke the kiss to recover much needed breath. The Dragonborn smiled at her.

"I, ah, sorry, if that was too sudden," he said bereft of any apologetic tone, "but I felt it was the right thing to do at the time. Seal the deal, and all that."

I suppose the threshold has been crossed, Delphine thought to herself. Her head was in a fog. She had made a life-altering decision, and that kiss encouraged her not to dwell on it. She didn't know whether her choice came from inside her heart or in between her legs, but the intrusive thoughts had drowned out all other reasoning with cacophonous ardor. Now they were simply her own thoughts, more probably focused on bedding the Dragonborn to realize a fantasy than procreation. Though, she could never argue for a more impressive man to sire a potential child. He was young, fit, protective -- all traits which her primal intuitions coveted in a mate.

He started unbuckling the straps on her armor.

"Dragonborn!" she breathed, disapproving but not cross. "We can't do this here! Not now!"

He paused, slightly startled by the objection. "Oh! Right, we should probably make sure we have some real privacy first."

His eagerness only excited her further. If the Temple were empty at this moment...

"This evening," Delphine said. "I'll send them out with Esbern to investigate those Dragon Cult statues in Soljund's Sinkhole. They can stay the night there; Perth owes us that much for clearing out those Draugr. We'll keep Ghorbash busy with patrolling the perimeter."

"Good plan. Come to my quarters when they've left."

"No," Delphine replied. If symbolism played a part in this affair, the location mattered. "Meet me in front of Alduin's Wall."

He agreed with a soundless "yes", then drew her close for their lips to meet again. This time his hands roamed up and down her arms, and soon he began exploring up the back of her neck, into her hair, down her curves, and the tops of her thighs.

Her mouth opened fully, and she welcomed his tongue, intoxicated by his affections and the thrill of their tryst. Her own fingers were busy squeezing the backs of his arms and relishing the muscles under his skin.

He pulled his head back, allowing her to breath, and his mouth quickly trailed downward to attack her neck, kissing and biting along the way. Lips, tongue, teeth -- he used every weapon at his disposal to break the Breton's defenses. Delphine's chest pounded and she felt a burning in her core. Her body was preparing itself for further carnality.

"I, ah, I said," she panted, unable to continue speaking while under assault.

He nibbled and tugged at her earlobe. "I know," he breathed. "But I want to give you a demonstration of what's to come. It would be a shame if you started having second thoughts."

"I thought this was business, not -- hnn!"

The Dragonborn cut her sarcasm short when his hand vanished beneath the skirt of her armor and his thumb rotated against the fabric directly covering her sex. She shut her eyes. Gods, now he knows I'm wet.

The Nord wore a triumphant smirk. He continued to toy with her entrance, all while gently moving behind her and moving the pair of them towards the ground behind the brush.

"We can't," she said unconvincingly. "As Grandmaster, I command this to stop."

"I command you," he countered with a low voice, "to enjoy yourself and trust we won't go too far."

Delphine's heart nearly burst from her chest at his dominant tone. Her knees buckled to his will, and she allowed herself to be laid on her back.

"The...the others..."

"Esbern and the others think we are out here having a row," he assured. "We don't have to worry about anyone coming through those doors. Now obey your Dragonborn."

The Breton was uncharacteristically compliant. She leaned her head back and sucked on her bottom lip while her companion increased the pace and pressure of his thumb. He clearly had some experience; he found her bud even underneath the now dampened cloth that separated her womanhood from view.

Her armor's skirt was hiked up and moved aside by the Nord and his free hand got to work on removing her undergarment. The Blades armor kept too much heat under the torso. Delphine undid the straps and loosened the steel chest piece to cool off. Meanwhile the Dragonborn finally slid her underwear off her legs, then kissed his way back up her calves and thighs until reaching her exposed opening. She felt his hot breath and she quivered. Then a warm and wet pressure brushed against her bud and outer lips. She moaned, and quickly covered her mouth in embarrassment. Another lick followed, slow and forceful. Then another. He squeezed her ass and thighs with both hands, lifting her slightly above the ground and angled.

Now, Delphine was no stranger to oral sex. On occasion, she would remember the late nights with a Bosmer woman in the Imperial City. She was a diplomat's assistant or something, from Valenwood, and her tongue was thin and precise. The wood elf could work Delphine into a stupor within a few minutes of careful licks and flicks.

The Dragonborn's tongue had no need of such meticulousness. It was wide and it was robust. Each stroke of his muscle pressed her thoroughly from the bottom of her folds to the bud at the top. She was quite content with the level of attention she was receiving. She did not object -- quite the opposite, actually -- when the Dragonborn inserted two fingers inside her while his tongue focused on stimulating her button. He pleasured her there on the ground for more than a few minutes. During which she massaged his head approvingly, until a familiar pressure quickly built up from her warmth.

Delphine's breathing picked up. By the Divines, he's going to make me come!

Her hands gripped his hair as her body tensed. She then muffled a guttural groan, so as to not alert the entire Reach of her rapture. Her legs clamped on his head, and the Dragonborn continued licking as she rode out her orgasm. For the past decade or so, the Breton had to rely on her own machinations to enjoy the rush of a sexual climax. Those were meaningless next to the ecstasy of an orgasm brought about by the touch of another. Doubly so when received from a specimen like the young Nord pleasuring her.

He caressed her thighs and gave affectionate bites around where her legs met her groin. Either he was getting better at this, or Delphine was so starved that initial foreplay was enough to achieve climax. The vise-grip weakened, and soon Delphine's muscles softened to mush during subsiding orgasm. She felt the warmth of the Dragonborn disappear from between her legs as he pulled back and sat on his haunches.

He wiped his palm down his mouth and chin, revealing a smile. He scanned her splayed form and took pride in his ability to render the steely eyed Breton to a huffing, discomposed form. The hand that she used to stifle her outburst now rested over her eyes while she recovered her breath.

He got up, then leaned over her and landed soft, small kisses on her cheeks, chin, and lips. She was still busy collecting air to reciprocate, but her other arm petted his cheekbones to show her appreciation. In her heightened state, even the prickly sensation of his beard on her palm was euphoric.

Suddenly, the Dragonborn's hand wedged beneath her and she was flipped over without warning. Before she could respond, two of the Nord's sturdy fingers dived into her entrance.

"Ahh," she gasped louder than expected. Her hands were too busy clawing the dirt to cover her mouth again. She tried to prop herself up on her elbows. The Dragonborn leaned over and held her chin with his free hand, craning her head upwards and initiating another deep kiss. He shoved his tongue into her accepting mouth. She sucked it and tangled it with her own. His fingers slid in and out of her at a steady beat. She twitched every time his knuckles knocked against her clit.

Delphine broke away from the kiss and the Dragonborn helped her ease back down so she could bury her face in her arms. Her rump arched upwards to offer more access to the Dragonborn's fingers. He shifted behind her and admired her wide hips and taut ass. He was aware of the age gap between them, but if he wasn't then he'd be hard-pressed to determine that from how well she maintained her body. Sure, she had a few gray hairs coming in, but her Breton heritage preserved her skin and other assets better than other women her age in addition to a longer window of childbearing. She kept an active lifestyle even during the years she posed as an innkeeper, and it showed. He felt a predacious sense of gratification knowing that her hard work was now his to ravish during her closing years of fertility. If he were a weaker man, he would have taken her then and there. The strain in his groin gave enough proof of that.

"Paarthurnax is no longer your concern," he spoke. Delphine could only look back at him, unable to verbalize a response. His face was slightly darkened: this was not a request, but an order. The pace of his fingers increased. "I want the matter dropped entirely."

Delphine's headspace was in no condition to argue, nor rebuke the Dragonborn's timing. His forceful tone made the hair on her neck stand, and her body reacted with excitement. She couldn't deny him, not his voice, not his body. She breathed and nodded her head in submission. The Grandmaster would defer to the command of the Dragonborn.

He pawed at her ass cheeks and increased the pace of his fingering. He was pleased with her reaction: another breathy grunt, her feet kicking up, and her walls tightening on his digits -- signaling an oncoming climax. He inserted a third finger, inciting a louder moan that rose in pitch with every gasp for air.

Twice? Delphine thought. I'm coming twice!

She dug her fingers into the earth as her second climax burst and rose up her spine. "Gods!" she whimpered. Her head snapped as the waves of pleasure crashed throughout her limbs and body. The Dragonborn did not withdraw until her head went back down to rest on her arms.

He rose to his feet and wiped his fingers clean. His face beamed at the sight of Delphine's state of disorder; half-naked, panting and prone, arousal glistening off her folds and inner thighs.

"I'll let them know it went well, but that we have more to discuss," he said. "Take your time, just make sure you come down by supper. We bagged an Elk on our return from High Hrothgar and I'm going to be making a stew with some Alto wine to give body to the broth."

For all his skills and worth as a warrior, the Dragonborn was a shockingly good cook. He took his leave of the quivering Breton, who remained out in the courtyard until the scent of cooked meat and charcoal convinced her to return inside.

Dinner was quiet. The tenseness Delphine left behind earlier had lingered without her presence. Erandur, Borgakh, and Illia were unaware of the details, just that the Breton was not in the slightest bit receptive to dropping the Paarthunax issue with the Dragonborn. Upon her return from the courtyard, she briefed them all on the surprise expedition to Soljund's Sinkhole after the meal. None objected. They ate the stew and fresh bread without the normal table chatter, aware that it was not only the broth that held a pernicious temperature. Esbern minded to himself and an old book while occasionally sneaking glances at both Delphine and the Dragonborn.

Delphine and the Dragonborn ate well. The former sat upright, her head poised and refined, and enjoying every spoonful of supper with authority. She sat opposite of the Nord, but never once looked towards nor addressed him during the meal. To the others, her cheeks seemed flushed. They reasoned easily enough that a warm, hardy meal would heat up the coldest of constitutions -- if ever so slightly.